


From The Darkness

by rosemaryblues



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Blood and Violence, Decapitation, Gore, based off the new cover, happy birthday azami im so sorry, i didnt even intend for the ending its 3am and ive been writing for 2 hours, ive never written anything for azami or even kagerou project before cries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemaryblues/pseuds/rosemaryblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in years, she began to writhe, began to struggle. Time seemed to pour back all at once, as if every pent up moment, every August 15th she had waited through came surging back into her.</p><p>-----<br/>Happy Birthday Azami!</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write something for Azami's birthday, but I wasn't sure what to write, and whether or not it was to have a happy ending wahaha but I guess with the arrival of the new cover I couldn't help it.
> 
> Content warning: decapitation, extreme descriptions of gore, eye horror/eye mutilation.

_Her eyes, her eyes!_ They whispered tenaciously, feverishly, interlocking around her quivering, curled up form. Whispers seeped in and out of her ears, repeating words so strung that it took every inch of her willpower not to tear through her sockets and throw those mottled, crimson balls onto the dusty ground.  
Instead she dug, rubbing furiously through closed eyelids until she could see nothing but static and lightning, cracking vicariously across the darkened sight. She writhed, feeling the slimy, coiling bodies writhing with her, bending in tune to her agonized form.  
_You're a monster. You're a selfish, selfish monster_.  
Their voices rose in pitch, and in turn she too rose, pushing off her knees and feeling the lace of her dress shift along with her movements, until she was teetering on her feet, digging her toes underneath and feeling her stomach seize as she sucked in a breath, one of the snakes squeezing tighter as if to hold her lungs in place.  
She slowly lowered her hands, shaping the curves of her cheekbones with the edges of her nails, lingering from her lips, fingers twitching when coming into contact with her throat. Her body jolted as the snake suddenly let go, and she fell forward, leading with a hacking cough that left her mouth brittle and her stomach dry.  
They chorused with a slithering, agonizing laughter, a discordant tempo that did nothing but crack through the air around. She let herself fall backwards, only to be supported upright in a way that was far from merciful. The snakes let out another echo of hisses, baring their fangs in unison, flaring nostrils in her direction.  
She could do little to feel humiliation, to play along with their games and to give some sort of hopeful opening that somehow, some way they would stop.  
But she had lost count of the timelines long ago from where hope was nothing but a fruitless revolution, to what ounce of warmth it had given her in recline to the unrelenting feeling of them slithering and tangling themselves in her skin.  
She had resolved to feel unresolved, nothing but a blankness that mirrored the way this voidful world would taunt her until the sunset's neverend.  
She was naught but a monster, and if she allowed herself to feel guilt over her husband's and daughter's deaths, there would be nothing to salvage them from, no memory that the snakes hadn't already tainted with their blatant existence.  
She had apologized long ago, when this world was of clocks and sand that held no meaning, when waters would lap at her feet and mirror the silhouettes she was seated between, hands clasped tightly and filled with promises of never letting go.  
She had lost sight of them in this world of darkness, and she could only guess that they too had succumbed within. Long were the days over where she would strain to crane her neck, to get sordid glimpses of their ensnared forms, held up on display in a blight of serpants, as if they had to pay for the sins she had caused.  
The monster should not have ever felt, she had decided; to warrant a heart anything else but loneliness and despair.  
For monsters were created as so, to be the bringer of nightmares and the truth of evil, towards children who had no other reasons to believe in anything but.  
She wouldn't let herself be known as a saviour, for these children could only live to die over and over, to live in the neverending stretch she had wrought for her own family.  
There was nothing elegant about time, she had deduced, even when it had stopped, and there was nothing to gain from living within or without.  
The day held no meaning, not anymore, and nor did the words she had come to recite in what could have been years that passed.  
_It's time to sing happy birthday to the monster_. She mouthed, feeling the snakes around her rattle in what was apparent glee.  
Her eyes still remained closed, for if there was one thing she could do, it was to still the colour they so hungrily craved to eradicate. It could have been irony, for if she hadn't the eyes, the snakes would not exist, but she had forgotten whether or not she wished she had never been born in the first place.  
The first verse was harmonious, a plithe of mockery and scorn as they rose simultaneously, dropping in accordance as the melody dropped in pitch.  
The second verse was spotty, as if the snakes were trying to add merriment to their jeer. There was emphasis on the word _you_ , but that was where it suddenly stopped.  
She tensed, felt her blood thicken, her breathing go cold. There was nothing but an echoing silence, a sound so unprecedented that it threatened to drive her deeper than the constant hissing ever did.  
It was nothing but dangerous, so much so that she felt the snakes linger back, as if using her as a shield would do anything to stop the maliciousness that came from beyond.  
That was when she heard footsteps. Slow. _Deliberate_. Teasing it's presence by scuffing one foot with the next, a sound that was slightly muffled by what wasn't the ground.  
" _Happy birthday_ -"  
For the first time in a long time, she felt fear sidle up her chest.  
" _Dear, Azami..._ "  
The voice was icier than anything she had ever heard in all of her years. It was tantilizing, reek with nothing but a disturbing ring, as if every word was breathed with an intent to kill.  
And what's worse, is that she knew who it belonged to.  
For the first time in years, she began to writhe, began to struggle. Time seemed to pour back all at once, as if every pent up moment, every August 15th she had waited through came surging back into her. She beat with calloused fists, tearing at the snakes that seemed to have frozen on the spot. She kicked out, punched, twisted, but not once did she scream, and nor did she open her eyes.  
It was an invisible race, a painful stretch to escape the low, fetid laughter creeping towards her, to find an exit and run from the ever-approaching footsteps that couldn't be too far away-  
And thats when she felt it. A touch that she had not known for a millenia, the feeling of human hands on her skin, carving her cheekbones, lingering over her lips and fingers twitching as they grazed ever so slightly against her throat.  
And then she couldnt breathe, and if she wanted to scream, she couldnt have managed it. Death to rewind was something she had faced every single day, but never like this.  
She lifted her hands, squeezing them against his own, managing nothing but feeble wheezes and a slowly weakening respite. The laughter became louder, more maniacal, as if this was just some sort of toy that he was finding a kick of joy out of.  
When it suddenly stopped. She let out a shuddering, sobbing gasp, felt her chest contract madly as she gaped instinctively for fresh air.  
And what she managed next, through spittle dribbling down her chin, slanted vision blurred by tears and by what she thought were rises of pink and blue, something sorely unkempt that spoke of nothing but a finale resolve of someone so unresolved.  
She opened her eyes.  
" _Please_."  
To what she had pleaded, in a voice so quiet and so resigned, to be considered sparingly, or to be reunited with a past forgotten, neither would know.  
In the seconds that followed, Azami's head was ripped clean from her body, blood and muscle splattering against the shiny black scales of the snakes shaking and coiling to consume her limb body.  
It spilled over his hands, continously pooled from the gaping, ragged hole in the neck and onto his clothes. It pooled onto the floor below, covering the resounding splatters he had made from the initial detachment.  
He cradled her head close, running a hand through her silky black locks, tangling sticky fingers through her ribbons, drawing mindlessly on her cheek.  
" _Happy Birthday, to you._ "  
After a few moments he lifted her to face level, partaking in a grin that spread to his ears, as he watched her eyelids droop and relax around her slowly dimming, ruby red eyes.  
He cocked an eyebrow, jerking out his tongue in what appeared to be disgust, before he angled his thumbs and began to push gently on her eyeballs.  
He felt them squish easily beneath his fingers, and he let out a quiet giggle, haplessly rolling the mix of blood, fluids and jelly around in her sockets.  
"Is this what all the fuss was about? ...I think it's about time yellow came into season anyway."  
After a few moments of prying, he found himself bored, and he tossed Azami's head to the side, paying no heed to the snakes that slithered forward in hungry pursuit.  
Stretching his arms above his head, he let out a high-pitched cackle.  
"Here we go again, my dear Azami. Except this time...this will be the last."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!!


End file.
